


Know my name

by Vander38



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:01:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23052898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vander38/pseuds/Vander38
Kudos: 1





	Know my name

Freeform. Language warning for later on.

Brass bound wood slams against stone. Immovable and resolute, unyielding the door just sits there.  
“Bartrand! Open this damn door so I can kill you!” Varric’s usually calm voice echoes loudly through the primeval cavernous room.  
He slams Bianca heavily against the stone door, there is no effect other than making Varric feel better as he vents his spleen.  
“Varric it’s no use, just help me with this.” Isabela says from a pile of rubble that had a tantalising hint of airflow.  
He ignores her as he kicks the door.  
“Varric, please help.” The gentle pleading of Merrill, her voice straining as she moves rocks, is ignored by the red rage of Varric.  
“Hawke, tell him!” Isabela yells.  
The fourth figure is kneeling, his hands on his knees, palms up. His breathing is slow and gentle, almost lazy, as if sleeping.  
A long staff is in front of him, one end a heavy crystal, the other a vicious double glaive blade. Hawke leans forward, enough for his hand to grasp his staff and then he stands slowly. Like a giant of legend he rises up, six feet six of powerfully built man moving up to his full height. He stands perfectly straight, his staff at arms length to one side, butt to the ground, the tip of the blade reaches just higher than him.  
The air shimmers around him, dust storms twirl around his boots, electric tendrils dance over his clothes, small cascades of fiery sparks fall from his fingertips as icy breath steams from his nose.  
“Varric, move!” His voice is deep and vibrates thickly with power.  
Varric looks to his friend then moves away as he catches the grim look on the normally smiling face. Hawke takes another deep breath, holds it for a second, then exhales slowly and opens his eyes. The normal soft green is gone, replaced with a solid icy blue glow. He walks with purpose towards the door, the ancient stone floor cracking with each footstep.  
He stops just a few paces from the door and slowly takes his staff in both hands. He levels it, spear tip perfectly horizontal to the stone door. More electric blue sparks play up its length as the very air seems to crackle around his power.  
A moment, like a test of wills between Hawke and the door, then another slow breath.  
“I am Garret Malcolm Everest Hawke, I command you open! By wind and fire! By water and storm! By air and ice! Sun and moon! By life and death I command you, open!” His voice echoes around the chamber as he thrusts the staff blade against the door.  
A crack of thunder!  
A great flash of purple light!  
A great dust storm!  
A moment of silence as the wind dies away and the dust settles.  
The door, a once mighty work of stone, long had ancient Dwarves worked it, using all the great skills and ancient knowledge of their race to create a door that would stand when all others would fall. A door that would weather any storm.  
A door that had stood for uncountable thousands of years.  
A door that now met Hawke.  
A door that was still standing.  
It sat there, a great lump of rock, a tiny burn mark from where the spear tip had met it but otherwise showing no sign of any effect.  
Hawke inspected his staff, then poked the smug door.  
“I don’t understand, that’s never happened to me before.” His voice is confused and his face is almost sad.  
“It’s okay Hawke, we’re all under a little stress, we can always try later.” Merrill says gently as she goes over to him and strokes his shoulder.  
“Will one of you help me with this bloody rubble!” Isabela yells from the pile.  
“Or would you prefer to just cuddle?” She adds in a lewd voice.  
Hawke scowls at her before slinging his staff and helping lift rocks, Varric resumes thumping the door.  
Years later.  
Another cavernous room.  
On one side a crowd of cowering people, nobly dressed, clearly they had lived easy for far too long. On the other stands another crowd, lean and muscular, armed and armoured for war.  
Between them stood two men.  
One a great horned beast of a man, eight feet of powerful muscle and great limbs.  
The other is Hawke, he stands tall and calm despite the tension cracking around him.  
“Look to your Champion Kirkwall, look to your hero and watch him fall!” The Arishock has a deep voice to match his figure.  
“You can still walk away.” Hawke replies casually.  
The Arishock laughs deeply.  
“It will be interesting I think to watch you die Basalit-an.” His voice is calm.  
“My name is Garret Malcolm Everest Hawke I command you leave! By wind and fire! By water and storm! By air and ice! Sun and moon! By life and death I command you leave!” His voice crackles with power and echoes far beyond nature. Lightning starts to dance over his body as he unslings his staff, the heavy crystal taps stone with a flash and crack of thunder.  
In response the Arishock draws his weapons.  
The Qunari, the great masters of modern warfare on Thedas, and the Arishock is the greatest of their warriors and he is armed like it, in one hand a great axe as tall as most men, the other held a greatsword with a cruel split blade.  
“Oh bugger.” Hawke says before ducking a vicious sweep.  
A few years later still.  
A charge in a stone corridor, burnt flesh and blood fill the air with their stench.  
Three Templars charge over bodies, mage and Templar alike they reach the door and force it open to see Hawke standing perfectly still. His staff held ready.  
“I am Garret Malcolm Everest Hawke, I command you leave! By wind and fire! By water and storm! By air and ice! Sun and moon! By life and death I command you leave!”  
His voice vibrates and bounces around and the Templars look to each other then back to Hawke, standing proud and erect and fierce and they slowly back away.  
“Hey it worked for once, Varric! Did you see that?” He calls out joyfully.  
“Hawke!” Merrill screams in a panicked yell.  
He turns to see the once proud figure of First Enchanter Orsino shudder and twitch as flesh grew rapidly as he mutated with a hideous noise of flesh melting and bones twisting. More ripping and tearing echoes as he grows like a demented fetus of horror into a Harvester.  
“Oh for the love of carrot cake!” Hawke says scowling.  
Hours later.  
Hawke stands still despite his exhaustion, his staff is as much a support as a weapon as he slouches.  
In contrast Meredith stands proud and clean in shining armour.  
“Back off Meredith, it’s over!” His voice wavers slightly but flames dance up his staff, still able to fight.  
“It’s only just begun Hawke, submit now and I promise you it will be quick.” Meredith replies, her voice shaking with demented madness as spit flies from her mouth.  
“I am Garret Malcolm Everest Hawke, please just fuck off already!” Then in an aside to Varric. “I’m losing enthusiasm for the phrase.”  
Varric laughs and cocks Bianca.  
Meredith draws her sword, several feet of red lyrium steel.  
“Oh seriously!” Hawke sighs.  
Later on.  
Rotten green everywhere, the greasy water that slows them the clouds of oily smoke, the very air that tries to choke them.  
The group splashes through, moving fast through the Fade towards the hole to reality.  
“Do you think you will be remembered Hawke? Already the Champion is remembered more than the man, in a few years will they know your own name?” The voice of the Nightmare is cutting and mocking, like the voice of a bitter teacher who regrets their life path.  
“We ain’t getting out of this!” A voice close to panic from the Inquisitor, straining for breath in the cloying air.  
“Not all together.” The thick Orlesian voice of Stroud.  
“Get the word out then!” Hawkes voice is firm and powerful.  
He pulls a satchel from his shoulder and thrusts it into the Inquisitors hands.  
“Give that to Merrill!” He shouts before turning from them and runs back, further from reality, deeper into the Nightmare.  
“I am Garret Malcolm Everest Hawke, I command you know! By wind and fire! By water and storm! By air and ice! Sun and moon! By life and death I command you know my name!”  
His voice echoes with power through the fade as he fights the great Nightmare.


End file.
